


Sing Your Death Song

by Switch842



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:45:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Switch842/pseuds/Switch842
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Stiles really is the hero. That doesn't mean things end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing Your Death Song

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/466967.html?thread=71865111#t71865111) over at [Comment-Fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/): "5 times Stiles dies saving someone else’s life". So, yes. Stiles dies. Five times. I'm sorry.
> 
> Title from [this quote](http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/t/tecumseh190019.html) attributed to Tecumseh.

**1.**

"Scott, would you shut up, already?" Stiles said, laughing. "I get it. You're nervous, but, don't worry, she's going to say yes, okay?"

"But how do you know?" Scott asked as they got out of the car.

"You've been together for, what, five years now?"

"After the last break-up, yeah."

"See? Five years. That's a new record for you two."

Scott shoved Stiles' shoulder as they walked towards the coffee shop.

"But seriously," Stiles continued. "I think you guys are in a good place now. You love her; she loves you. It'll be-"

Stiles looked up as he heard tires squealing and saw a car speeding down the road, headed for a young girl crossing the street. She had her ear buds in and didn't even notice the car hurtling towards her.

"Hey!" Stiles yelled, trying to get her attention as he ran into the road.

"Stiles!" Scott yelled, running after him.

Stiles shoved the girl out of the way just in time. She was safe. Stiles, however, took the full brunt of the impact and was hurled into the air, rolling over the car and dropping to the ground with a heavy thud. The car sped off without even slowing down.

"Call 911!" Scott yelled at the girl who was staring at Stiles in horror. "Call 911!"

She nodded and pulled out her phone.

Scott knelt next to Stiles, trying to take in what injuries he might have. His right arm was pinned down underneath his back. His left leg was definitely broken. His face and neck were covered with scrapes and scratches from the glass and asphalt.

"Stiles? Hang on, buddy, okay? Help is gonna be here soon."

Stiles coughed, blood bubbling from his mouth, his breathing shallow and weak.

"Love-" he coughed.

"I know," Scott said. "I know. Love you, too, man."

**2.**

Stiles rang the doorbell and quickly checked his breath. This was it. He'd finally been invited to Lydia Martin's house. Just him. No one else. Granted, it was to study for their algebra final, but still. It was going to be just him and Lydia. This was his moment and he was going to seize it. Probably. Maybe.

He was just checking that his deodorant was still good when the front door opened and Lydia's mom looked at him strangely.

"Good evening, Mrs. Martin," Stiles said politely. "Um, I'm Stiles? I'm here to study with Lydia for our algebra final?"

"Oh, right," Mrs. Martin said. "Lydia's in her room, second door on the right. Her father and I are headed out for the night, but Lydia knows the rules when she has boys over."

"Right, okay. Thank you."

Stiles hurried up the stairs before someone decided he shouldn't be there and made him leave. He found Lydia in her room, books spread out across her bed and scribbling away in a notebook. He knocked on the doorframe and waited for her to invite him in. He was a gentleman, after all.

"Hey, Stiles," she said, without looking up.

"Uh, hey," Stiles said.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said, waving to the foot of her bed.

 _OK. Be cool,_ Stiles thought. _It's just sitting on her bed to study. You got this._

He sat down a little too close to the edge of the bed and ended up falling off when he went to take his things out of his book bag.

"Are you okay?" Lydia asked, once he stood back up. She was looking at him like he had two heads or something. This was not going well.

"Oh, fine. Yeah, totally fine. You have a very… springy bed. It looks… comfortable."

"It's fine, I guess. Where did you want to start?"

They studied for a couple hours before Lydia decided it was time for a break. She went to the kitchen to get some drinks and snacks. Stiles stopped in the bathroom on the way down. He had just flushed when he heard what sounded like glass breaking and then Lydia screamed.

He rushed down the stairs to see Lydia standing in the kitchen, an overly muscled guy with a black knit was waving a knife at her.

"Just take what you want," she was saying, her voice shaking from fear. Her eyes were wet, but Stiles could see she was willing herself to not actually cry.

"Lydia?" Stiles said.

They both turned to look at him and then the knife was raised in his direction.

"Whoa," Stiles said, raising his hands in appeasement.

"Who's this, then? Your little boyfriend?" the intruder sneered.

"Nope," Stiles said. "Not a boyfriend. Barely even a friend. Just take what you came for and leave, okay? We won't try and stop you."

"Of course you won't stop me. You look like I could pick up one handed and shove you down the garbage disposal. Now go stand over there before I decide you're worth more to me dead."

Stiles jumped and scurried over to Lydia, putting an arm around her shoulder and staying close. They watched as he went around the kitchen, packing up the expensive knives and some of the smaller appliances. He moved into the attached den and looked over the bookcase.

"Do you have your phone?" Lydia whispered.

"No," Stiles said. "I left it upstairs."

"Damn it."

The intruder came back into the kitchen, his bag sagging heavily with the weight of whatever he lifted from the den. He walked right up to them and pointed his knife straight at Lydia's throat.

"Your necklace. Now," he said.

Lydia's eyes widened with fear and regret.

"No," she whispered.

"No?" he said.

"No. It belonged to my grandmother. And despite what you may think, the stones are cheap quartz and its only value is sentimental. I promise, you'll get nothing from it."

"And how do I know you're not just lying to save a pretty trinket your boyfriend gave you?"

"I don't lie."

"She doesn't," Stiles added. "She always tells the truth. It's kind of annoying, actually."

"That's nice. Not that I care, mind you. And I really don't care that it's worth nothing. It's worth something to you, so I want it. Now, hand it over."

"No," Lydia said again, her voice starting to waver.

"Lydia, please," Stiles begged.

"Stiles, I can't," she said. "I'm sorry."

"You know what. Enough," the intruder said.

He reached out, grabbing for Lydia's necklace. Stiles didn't know what he was doing, he just couldn't let him take it or hurt Lydia. He shoved Lydia out of the way, stepping in front of her and trying to push the intruder away. The guy ended up grabbing the drawstring from Stiles' hoodie and they fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. White hot pain flared up on Stiles' side, near his ribs, and he groaned as he rolled off the guy and onto the ground.

"Stiles!" he heard Lydia call. She dropped to her knees beside him and he vaguely registered what sounded like the intruder running out the door.

Stiles lifted his head and tried to figure out what had happened. He saw a bright red stain blooming on his shirt and the knife on the floor covered in what could only be his blood. His dad was going to kill him.

"Stiles, hang on," Lydia said. He groaned as she pressed a towel to his torso to help try and stop the blood. That hurt. A lot. And he couldn't really breathe, either. He could feel himself gasping for air, but it was as if the air just wasn't reaching his lungs.

"Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance. My friend has been stabbed. He's losing a lot of blood."

Stiles tried to concentrate on staying conscious as he waited for help to come. He tried counting, but that only made him tired. He tried thinking about the math problems they had been working on before this all happened.

"Stiles? Open your eyes, Stiles."

He hadn't even realized he'd closed them.

"Hey," he rasped. "Don't cry."

"Why did you do that?" Lydia said. "Why would you do something like that?"

"I love you," he whispered. "Haven't you figured that out, yet?"

"Don't say that," Lydia said. "You can't just say that right now. Stiles? Stiles!"

Why did she sound so far away? Was the ambulance there and taking him away? Why was it so… dark?

**3.**

"No!"

Derek turned as he heard the shout, the scent of blood hitting his nose a split second later. _Stiles'_ blood. Derek dropped the werewolf he had been fighting, shoving his claws into the wolf's chest before letting out a roar and running to Stiles' side.

He barreled head-long into the wolf attacking Stiles, knocking him off his feet and snapping his neck before he could even think. He ran back to Stiles' side, his wolf contained before he'd even taken the first step. 

There was blood everywhere. Deep gash marks slashed Stiles' chest and his right leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Blood gurgled out of Stiles' mouth with every breath he tried to take.

"What did you do? I told you stay inside," Derek said, mostly to himself. He pressed against Stiles' wounds, but he knew it was useless.

"Had to... keep you safe..." Stiles said as he coughed up more blood.

"That's not your job," Derek said. "I can help you, Stiles. Please, just... Let me help you."

"No," Stiles replied, gasping for breath. "I don't want it. I'm sorry, Derek, but I don't want it. Tell Scott... Tell Scott..."

Stiles' body was wracked with coughs and then went still.

"Stiles?" Derek said. "Stiles?"

He pressed his fingers to Stiles' neck, desperately searching for a pulse, but knowing it was useless.

Stiles was dead.

**4.**

"And a baked potato."

"Dad, come on," Stiles said.

"Fine. I'll start with the side salad, vinaigrette dressing, please," he said to the waitress.

"You got it." She took their menus and went to put their orders in.

"So, have you decided about college yet?"

"I don't know," Stiles said. "I'll probably stay in California somewhere. With, you know, everything going on around here no one wants to go too far away."

"Right, that's understand-"

He was cut-off from continuing by the sound of a gunshot from the other end of the diner. Stiles immediately dropped under the table, followed by his dad who was already on the phone calling it in. People were screaming, plates and glasses were falling all over the floor. Stiles had never been as scared as he was in this moment. He'd faced down werewolves and crazy, power-hungry grandpas, but that was nothing compared to this.

"Shut up!" the guy with the gun yelled. "Shut up and get the money out of the register."

Stiles watched the waitress pull the money out of the register and hand it over to the guy. Her hands were shaking so hard, it fell all over the counter and rolled onto the floor.

"Pick it up!" he yelled, waving the gun in her face.

"Hey, now," Stiles' dad said, slowly standing up and holding his hands out to the guy.

The guy spun around, his gun now pointing at Stiles' dad. Stiles' heart rate kicked up ten speeds.

"Sit down!" the guy yelled.

"No one needs to get hurt here. Why don't you just put the gun away, take the money and go?"

"Why don't you sit down and shut the fuck up?"

"Okay. Just be cool. Everything's fine."

"It'll be fine once you sit down and I get my money."

The guy turned back to the counter, but left the gun pointed towards his dad. Stiles knew exactly what his dad was going to do and rushed out from under the table to stop him.

He shoved his dad out of the way just as the guy turned back around. There was a loud bang and Stiles felt something burning in his chest. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

"Stiles!" he heard his dad call. "Stiles! No!"

Stiles was looking up at his dad from the floor. When did he fall down? Why was his shirt wet? Did he knock over his Coke when he stood up? He felt his shirt and looked at his hand, confused when it came back red and sticky. Was that ketchup?

"Hang on, Stiles. Just hang on, okay?" His dad was pressing a bunch of napkins against his chest and talking to him. "The ambulance will be here soon. Just stay with me. I can't lose you, too."

Oh. He had been shot. So, that's what it felt like.

**5.**

"It's okay," Stiles said. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Scott pleaded. "How can you say this is okay? You know they're going to kill you."

"I know," Stiles said. "Believe me, I am beyond scared right now and way past terrified. But it's either me or… all of you. They'll take down this whole town, Scott. I can't let them do that. You and Derek and Lydia and Allison and… my dad."

"Stiles, come on. You think this is going to help your dad?"

"He'll be fine," Stiles said. "He's got your mom now, and you. I found a ring in his dresser last week, so you better make sure she says yes, okay?"

Scott nodded, not even trying to hold back his tears.

"You guys can come in now," Stiles continued.

He was immediately assaulted by Lydia and Allison who hugged him so tight, he was sure they had bruised a rib or two.

"Take care of him," he said to Allison.

"I will," she agreed.

"You are the bravest man I know," Lydia said.

"Aw, shucks," he said, trying to deflect as he always did.

"I mean it. I can't believe you're doing this and I wish I could get you to change your mind, but I know you won't."

"Come on, Lydia. How often do I get to be the hero?"

"You don't have to die to be a hero, Stiles."

"I guess I do this time."

They stared at each other for a moment before Stiles gave in to the urge he'd had since the day he met Lydia and finally pressed his lips to hers. To his surprise, she kissed him back. To his even bigger surprise, he felt nothing. Granted, he didn't feel much of anything other than abject terror at the moment.

"Thank you," he said, pulling away.

He crossed the room and said good-bye to Isaac, Ethan and Aiden. Stiles had never been extremely close with any of them, but he would still miss them.

Then there was just Derek.

"So," Stiles said. "I guess this is it."

Derek just crossed his arm and shook his head.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he said after a moment.

"What other option is there?"

"We fight."

"Right. Because we totally have the best record when it comes to that. You go fight; they kill you and then they kill the whole town. Come on, you heard them. This is the only option we have."

"I just… You're pack, Stiles. It's my job to protect you, not send you to your death."

"Then it's a good thing you're not doing that. I'm going of my own free will. This was my choice; please don't put this on yourself. I'll go with them, we'll leave, and then you can go on and be happy that I'm out of your hair."

"You were never in my hair, Stiles."

"Yeah, I was."

"Maybe a little."

"Was that a smile?" Stiles said. "I'm going off to my death and Derek here is laughing his ass off. Nice to know I'll be missed."

"You will be," Derek said, suddenly serious.

"I'll miss you guys, too," he said, his voice thick with unshed tears.

With one last look, he grabbed his bag and headed out the door. Off for one final adventure.

THE END


End file.
